


Threads of Gold

by henriqua



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: But mostly just fluff!, Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Getting Back Together, Hint of angst somewhere in there, M/M, Single Father Otabek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27189565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/henriqua/pseuds/henriqua
Summary: “What else has changed?” Yuri asks, honest curiosity in his voice.“Well, I hang around with uncool people like JJ,” Otabek says, taking a drink and smiling at the small chuckle Yuri lets out. “I learned to play the guitar and I actually know how to cook now, kind of. And I have a kid.”Yuri blinks, the look of utter confusion on his face telling Otabek he’s convincing himself he must have misheard Otabek’s words. “You have a what now?”
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 15
Kudos: 120
Collections: Otayuri Week 2020





	Threads of Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Otayuri Week 2020 Day 1: Reunion
> 
> This idea originally came to me back in July, I started writing it and then it kind of got out of my control. I hope you enjoy it nevertheless!

_ And isn't it just so pretty to think  
_ _ All along there was some  
_ _ Invisible string  
_ _ Tying you to me?  
_   
Taylor Swift - Invisible String  
  


* * *

  
Lately, Otabek has been thinking about Yuri Plisetsky a lot.  
  
It’s normal for Yuri to cross his mind maybe once a day, but in the past few months, Otabek has caught himself thinking about Yuri pretty much every hour he spends awake. It doesn’t bother him, not really, and he’s not going to admit being disappointed when he went to Facebook for a quick _”Yuri Plisetsky”_ search and came out empty-handed. Five years is a long time, and Otabek is over Yuri.  
  
Kind of. He wants to believe he is, at least.  
  
Otabek was 20 years old when he met Yuri Plisetsky, the blond getting questioned by the bouncers of the club Otabek was playing at because they suspected he had a fake ID (which, Otabek later found out, he did). Otabek secretly admired the way Yuri kept cursing in Russian at the two men at least twice his size and he stepped in, telling the bouncers Yuri was with him and there was no need to fight. Otabek didn’t mean to flirt with Yuri, but thinking back now, helping an underaged stranger into a club and then buying him a drink sound a lot like flirting to him.  
  
Yuri danced through Otabek’s set that night, his bright eyes locked onto him from the middle of the dance floor, and without thinking about it too much, Otabek invited him over. Yuri came home with him, and he practically didn’t leave until the summer changed into September and Otabek woke up one chilly morning to an empty bed and a handwritten note on the kitchen table telling him Yuri had to go back to Russia.  
  
Their romance lasted for barely three months, but Otabek still thinks that summer was the best he has ever had. Yuri was like a firecracker, every day surprising Otabek with his crazy ideas and unpredictable actions. Yuri’s laugh never failed to fill Otabek’s chest with excitement, and his quick temper and sharp tongue kept him on his toes in the best way possible. Their sex was great, and Yuri really was beautiful in every single way.  
  
Except maybe in the way he left and absolutely broke Otabek’s heart, but Otabek has had five years to recover from that. His heart has healed a little, yet he still can’t get Yuri out of his mind.  
  
“Yo! Otabek!” JJ pulls Otabek out of his daydream, pushing the door to his office open. “Break time!”  
  
“I’m not done yet,” Otabek says flatly, gesturing at the pile of ungraded music theory tests on his desk. “And I have to go through these before my lesson at four.”  
  
“You’ve been sitting here for hours already, it’s bad for your posture,” JJ says, marching into the office and forcing Otabek out of his chair. Otabek tries to protest but if he’s being completely honest, he could use a little break from grading his part of the tests. He gives in with a sigh and follows JJ out of the building, listening to his ramblings when they drop by the coffee shop on the other side of the street.  
  
They usually take a little walk around the block or in the nearby park with their coffees, but JJ tells Otabek he has an errand to run, so instead of heading towards their usual route, JJ leads him to the shopping street located a five-minute walk away. Otabek isn't much of a shopper (he doesn’t have the time to stroll around the shops for fun anymore), so he focuses on sipping his coffee until JJ reaches his destination and pulls Otabek into a shop with him.  
  
Otabek is only mildly surprised they enter a tattoo studio: just yesterday during coffee break JJ had talked about booking an appointment for another tattoo. He’s already pretty much covered in pictures, yet time after time his go-to tattoo artist somehow manages to find bare spots on his skin.  
  
The studio is bright and spacious, pictures of its tattoo artists’ greatest masterpieces covering the walls. Faint rock music plays in the background, and they’re greeted by a girl with flaming-red hair, a smile spreading on her face when she recognizes who had just walked in.  
  
“JJ’s back!” she yells, running around the counter and happily accepting the hug JJ pulls her into.  
  
“Fucking amazing,” someone mutters from behind her, words dripping with sarcasm, and Otabek’s heart misses a beat. He takes a peek over JJ’s shoulder, his breath getting caught in his throat when his eyes land on a young man standing behind the counter.  
  
It looks like the sleeves of the top he’s wearing has been removed with a pair of dull scissors, the shirt hanging loosely on his frame and exposing some lines of a tiger tattooed over his ribs. His strikingly blond hair is on a messy half-up, green eyes studying a computer screen placed on top of the counter, round glasses perched on his nose. He sticks his tongue out when JJ laughs and calls him rude, and then his gaze finds Otabek.  
  
It’s Yuri. Here, in Canada, in a tattoo shop just a five-minute walk away from the music academy where Otabek works five days a week.  
  
“Oh,” Yuri says, his voice barely a whisper yet Otabek swears he can hear it clearly. JJ and the red-haired girl follow their stare-down in confusion, and Otabek’s heart drops when a judging frown spreads on Yuri’s face. “You’re friends with JJ?”  
  
“We’re co-workers,” Otabek says before JJ gets a chance to call Yuri rude again. He steps around JJ and the girl, careful not to let the sigh of relief fluttering in his lungs escape just yet. Judgment drops from Yuri’s expression but his eyebrows are still lightly knit together.  
  
“I don’t know if that’s better or worse. You have to be around him _every_ day?”  
  
Otabek laughs because when he thinks about it, Yuri and JJ’s personalities clash in the worst way possible. JJ being the shop’s regular must be torture for Yuri, and Otabek feels a little sorry for him.  
  
“Wait, wait,” the girl suddenly interrupts them, getting back behind the counter next to Yuri. She runs her eyes up and down Otabek and then gives Yuri a questioning look. “You guys know each other?”  
  
“Kind of,” Yuri says after a moment of hesitation. His eyes drop down, suddenly avoiding Otabek’s gaze, and he bites his lip - a habit he does when uncertain or doubtful over something, Otabek remembers.  
  
JJ gets to the counter to have a chat with the girl and book his next appointment, but silence falls between Otabek and Yuri. Otabek wants to reach out and touch Yuri, just to make sure he really is there and Otabek isn’t imagining it, but the way Yuri gives him a short, almost uncomfortable smile tells Otabek he’s regretting something and he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to handle it.  
  
Otabek can’t be sure what his regret is about: maybe saying what he did just now, maybe leaving without a word five years ago, or maybe giving space to all the memories he’s been trying to suppress until Otabek walked in.  
  
“I thought you were in Russia,” Otabek says quietly so they won’t be overheard by JJ and the girl, but loud enough to draw Yuri’s attention back on him.  
  
“I was,” Yuri says, leaning against the counter, his shoulders relaxing. He looks grateful that Otabek decided to ignore the uneasiness that momentarily engulfed him, and the lively sparkle that returns into his eyes makes Otabek’s heart excited. “I went to school there and came back about a year ago. Mila’s an old friend and she needed help here in the shop, so now I kinda do this for a living. Can’t really use my maths degree in this but it’s fun so I’m not complaining.”  
  
“You have a degree in _maths_?”  
  
Yuri laughs, the sound setting off the world’s tiniest fireworks inside Otabek. “And art’s my minor. I couldn’t decide,” he explains with a shy shrug. “But what about you? Do you still DJ, or do you just teach kids at the academy like JJ?”  
  
“I don’t DJ as often as I’d like to,” Otabek admits, and Yuri gives him an easy smile, similar to the ones he always wore when he watched Otabek work his magic behind the turntables in smoky clubs. It’s full of reminiscence and makes Otabek’s heartache worse than it has been lately.  
  
He’s about to continue, maybe explain why he now prefers a stable day-job over DJ gigs, but JJ interrupts him by wrapping an arm around his shoulders and flashing a big smile to Yuri that turns his expression sour.  
  
“I’m sorry, but I think we have to get back to work!”  
  
JJ is whistling a familiar tune when they walk through the shopping street, and Otabek tells himself he wasn’t flirting with Yuri when before they left the shop he offered to treat him to a drink later that night. He realizes that’s exactly how their first meeting went down five years ago, and he isn’t quite sure if he did it on purpose.  
  
They’re already back in Otabek’s office when JJ breaks the silence between them.  
  
“Where do you know Yuri from?”  
  
“We had a hot summer romance five years ago,” Otabek says flatly, unable to keep down a laugh when pure shock takes over JJ’s expression.  
  
“No, you didn’t.”  
  
“We did, actually. I almost wish I was lying.”  
  
JJ hums and sits on the edge of Otabek’s desk although Otabek keeps telling him to keep his body parts out of his working area. “Does he know-?”  
  
“No,” Otabek answers before JJ finishes his sentence, knowing exactly what he’s about to ask. “I’ll tell him tonight. I have to.”  
  
*  
  
The bar they’re meeting at is located close to the tattoo shop, yet Otabek is the first one to arrive. He sits down at a table for two and sends his sister a text, informing her that he will be home a little later than usual that night. In her reply Inkar tells him not to hurry since they just started baking and it’ll take them at least an hour to get something done.  
  
Yuri gets there ten minutes past six, apologizing for being late. He shrugs off his leather jacket and Otabek pretends not to see the nervousness in his smile.  
  
“What would you like to drink?”  
  
“Anything you’re having,” Yuri says, definitely aware that’s what he used to always say when Otabek offered to buy something for him in the past. Otabek can feel Yuri’s gaze on himself when he goes to order for them, and he’s leaning his chin on his hand, emerald eyes carefully following Otabek’s every movement as he sets their drinks down and takes a seat.  
  
Yuri takes one sip of his drink before setting it aside, eyes still studying Otabek. Otabek raises his eyebrows to him as a wordless question, and Yuri lets out a laugh that sounds a lot like a sigh of relief. “This is just weird.”  
  
“I know,” Otabek agrees, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.  
  
“I also can’t believe you’re teaching kids now.”  
  
“Me either, but it’s actually quite fun,” Otabek says with a shrug. He and his sister originally came to Canada to study classical music, but after a few years Otabek got bored of just sitting behind the piano and decided to broaden his horizons. That led him to DJ-ing and eventually gave him a job in teaching while Inkar secured herself a spot in Toronto Symphony Orchestra.  
  
“What else has changed?” Yuri asks, honest curiosity in his voice.  
  
“Well, I hang around with uncool people like JJ,” Otabek says, taking a drink and smiling at the small chuckle Yuri lets out. “I learned to play the guitar and I actually know how to cook now, kind of. And I have a kid.”  
  
Yuri blinks, the look of utter confusion on his face telling Otabek he’s convincing himself he must have misheard Otabek’s words. “You have a what now?”  
  
“I’m a single father to a three-year-old,” Otabek says, laughing when Yuri reaches for his glass and takes a long drink. His expression is still nothing but disbelief when he puts the glass back down and Otabek can’t help finding it anything else but hilarious.  
  
“Wh- I- How?” Yuri stammers.  
  
“Maybe six months after you left I met a girl. We hit off, it was all cool and casual until she got pregnant,” Otabek explains, a small smile on his lips. “It wasn’t planned but we decided to keep the child although we… we weren’t ready for something like that. A few months after Ayzha was born her mother came to the conclusion I and the baby were the worst things that had ever happened to her and she packed her stuff and moved to the other side of the country.”  
  
“How irresponsible!”  
  
Otabek shrugs, secretly happy Yuri seems to have quickly gotten over the initial shock of him raising a child on his own. “We were young and she was only starting her career.”  
  
“You were _both_ young, though. What about your career and life? That’s so selfish,” Yuri says, sounding genuinely upset.  
  
“It is, but I suppose she didn’t love her child, so it’s better this way. It was scary to be left alone but… when I held Ayzha for the first time, minutes after she was born, I swore I would do my everything to keep her happy. It’s… it’s hard to explain,” Otabek says, a little embarrassed to confess such feelings in front of Yuri.  
  
He looks up and meets Yuri’s eyes, the soft gaze looking back at him making his heart perform cartwheels. At that exact moment he realizes that throwing himself into a new relationship, having a child, trying to put together a life for him and his daughter and working a stable day-time job weren’t enough to help him over Yuri.  
  
No matter what he tells himself, he never got over Yuri, and he knows that fact is going to make everything a lot harder from now on.  
  
“Do you have a picture of her?” Yuri suddenly asks, his voice gentle. Otabek is more than happy to take out his phone and dig through his camera roll, presenting Yuri a picture he took some months ago on Ayzha’s birthday: she’s sitting on the floor of their living room, dressed in a yellow dress and surrounded by torn wrapping paper, dark messy curls framing her laughing face as she looks past the camera.  
  
Otabek really tries to hide his sappy smile, but when Yuri takes his phone to get a better look at the picture and calls her cute, he can’t help it.  
  
“She looks like you.”  
  
“That’s what my mom said when she saw Ayzha for the first time. Apparently I looked exactly the same when I was a child,” Otabek laughs, taking his phone back and pocketing it.  
  
“Did you have curly hair too?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“I _have_ to see your baby pictures now,” Yuri says. His tone is teasing but there’s a glimmer in his eyes that tells Otabek he’s serious.  
  
“That’s not gonna happen,” he declares, struggling to keep his face straight when Yuri gives him an adorable pout, smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.  
  
To Otabek’s surprise their conversation flows easily after that. He was worried Yuri would bolt out of the door the minute he’d heard Otabek has a child now, but instead he asks questions about Ayzha and seems to be interested to hear how Otabek’s daily life has changed from what it was five years ago. They also talk about Yuri, how he hated studying in Saint Petersburg and came back as soon as he could although he still has his thesis to finish (“I can do that shit online anyway,” he explained). Yuri tells him about his family - the only thing he’s been missing since leaving Russia - and Otabek listens, smiling at this new, softer side of Yuri he never saw during those months they were together in the past.  
  
Maybe it’s that, or maybe it’s the softer side he has somehow developed too, which makes Otabek invite Yuri over for dinner when they’re done with their drinks and ready to head home.  
  
“Dinner? With your daughter?” Yuri asks, slightly taken aback by Otabek’s suggestion.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“I dunno, Beka,” he says with an uneasy smile, the nickname making Otabek’s heart miss a beat. “I’m not very good with kids. I mean, kids usually hate me.”  
  
“Ayzha won’t hate you,” Otabek laughs, the mere idea ridiculous to him. Yuri doesn’t look convinced, however, so Otabek pats his shoulder reassuringly and promises him he’d be free to leave if it turned out Ayzha didn’t like him.  
  
**  
  
The following Saturday Otabek opens the door to a very nervous-looking Yuri, somehow managing to keep his laughter down when Yuri comes in and toes off his shoes, warily hanging his jacket up.  
  
“I could barely sleep last night,” he confesses, pulling the sleeves of his sweater over his hands as an attempt to release some of the nervous energy that’s been building up inside him. Otabek finds it adorable, but he’s not planning to voice that thought.  
  
“She’s three years old,” Otabek reminds Yuri, but that doesn’t seem to calm him down.  
  
“Exactly!” he hisses. “She’s a _child_. _Your_ child.” Otabek isn’t completely sure what Yuri means by that, but he decides not to dwell on it right now. He gives Yuri’s shoulder a comforting squeeze and takes him to the living room where Ayzha is playing in front of the TV.  
  
Yuri stops a few steps away, shifting his weight from one foot to another when Otabek goes to his daughter and kneels next to her to get her attention.  
  
“Princess?”  
  
“Yes, papa?”  
  
“Do you remember when I said we would have a guest over today?” The girl nods enthusiastically, curly hair swaying around her face. “He’s here, so you should greet him, right?”  
  
Ayzha turns around, her curious eyes studying Yuri as he walks to them and crouches down, offering his hand to the girl. Otabek notices he’s biting the inside of his lip, his shoulders tense and voice wavering a little when he talks.  
  
“Hi, Ayzha. My name’s Yuri.”  
  
“Yuri,” she repeats, eyebrows in a concentrated frown as she tries to memorize the name. She wraps her tiny hand around Yuri’s forefinger as if to shake hands with him, but gasps in adoration instead of a greeting when she notices the black polish on Yuri’s nails. She looks up with wide eyes, and after Yuri’s confused expression doesn’t satisfy her, she turns to her father. “Look! Pretty!”  
  
Otabek laughs at her excitement. “Yes, very pretty.”  
  
“Yuri is pretty,” Ayzha states with a wide, dazzling smile, giving no attention to the blush that spreads on Yuri’s face.  
  
“I know, princess,” Otabek says, ruffling her hair and mentally high-fiving himself when his words make Yuri’s blush deepen.  
  
“Papa tried to make my nails pretty,” Ayzha tells Yuri, still holding him by his finger when she looks up and shakes her head in disappointment. “But he was not very good at it.”  
  
That pulls a laugh out of Yuri, his entire being relaxing with it. He sits properly down next to the girl and lets her admire the nail polish he has on. “I can paint your nails if you want.”  
  
“I think there’s some nail polish in the bathroom. You could do that while I finish cooking dinner,” Otabek butts in the conversation, Ayzha’s eyes shining in excitement when he stands up to fetch the bottle of nail polish Inkar has left behind. He manages to take half a step away before Yuri grabs his ankle with his free hand, looking up at him with utter horror.  
  
“You can’t leave me here alone with her,” he whispers, Ayzha’s undivided attention still on his painted nails.  
  
“She’s three years old. What’s the worst she could do?” Otabek asks, getting a slight deja-vu of the conversation they had just minutes ago.  
  
“She could start crying or something!” Otabek looks at his daughter, happily humming along the opening song of a children’s TV show playing in the background, now holding two of Yuri’s fingers in her hand. He gives Yuri a bored stare and tears his leg free, immune to the horrified look on Yuri’s face.  
  
“If you manage to make her cry, I’ll give you an award,” he says. Yuri doesn’t seem to understand what he means, but Otabek doesn’t explain himself: he knows Yuri will eventually see the absolute adoration in the way Ayzha looks at him, incredibly happy of the new friend she has made.  
  
*  
  
Otabek spends most of their dinner laughing at Yuri’s honest awe over the food he has cooked (because five years ago Otabek was a disaster in the kitchen, and they mostly ate take-out and instant noodles). His lifestyle before Ayzha wasn’t the healthiest, and although he has had to learn a lot of new things in the past three years, he’s grateful.  
  
Yuri makes him promise to give him cooking lessons because apparently he’s still terrible at it.  
  
Otabek declines Yuri’s attempts to help him with cleaning after they’re done with dinner, and he puts dirty dishes away and wipes the counters while Yuri adds finishing touches to Ayzha’s nails at the kitchen table. Every now and then Otabek steals glances of them, his heart swelling at the sight of Yuri’s concentrated face and Ayzha’s glee over the pink nail polish on her. Her eyes are sparkling when Yuri tells her he’s done and she scrambles on her feet, running to Otabek to show him her painted nails.  
  
“Pretty!” she exclaims, and Otabek agrees with her.  
  
It’s getting late and although it’s close to Ayzha’s usual bedtime, she’s reluctant to go to sleep. Otabek decides to let her stay up until Yuri leaves, but they’re still in the middle of choosing which movie to watch when she starts yawning and nodding off.  
  
“I’m going to put her to bed. It’s alright if you don’t want to wait-”  
  
“It’s fine,” Yuri says, a small smile on his face when Otabek picks Ayzha up and she looks a little annoyed by her own drowsiness, wrapping her arms around Otabek’s neck.  
  
They go through their usual night-time routine and Ayzha manages to escape her father after getting her pajamas on, dragging Yuri from the living room for a bedtime story. Otabek scolds her but Yuri tells him it’s okay, and the soft look in his eyes makes Otabek absolutely helpless in the best way possible.  
  
Yuri sits on the foot of Ayzha’s bed and listens quietly to the story Otabek reads to her: it’s in Kazakh and he doesn’t probably understand most of it, but he looks happy to be there, meeting eyes with Otabek whenever he glances up from the book. By the time Ayzha has fallen asleep Otabek’s heart is drumming crazily in his chest, and he hates how his hands shake when he starts up Netflix and gives the remote to Yuri, letting him choose a movie for them.  
  
The movie is some kind of action-thriller that Otabek has never seen, but he suspects Yuri has. He tries to get comfortable on the couch, paying attention to its size for the first time since buying it: he doesn’t want to get into Yuri’s personal space without an invitation, but the two-seater makes it technically impossible. Yuri doesn’t seem to be bothered by them sitting so close to each other, and Otabek tries to focus on the movie instead of the realization that Yuri is right there, mere inches away.  
  
They make it ten minutes into the movie before Yuri clears his throat and shifts on the couch, drawing Otabek’s attention to himself.  
  
“I don’t really know how to word this, so I’m just going to say it.”  
  
“Okay,” Otabek says, sounding a lot calmer than he actually feels.  
  
“I’m really fucking sorry for leaving like I did back then.” Something in Yuri’s posture changes, like getting those words finally out of his mouth helped him to breathe more freely. “I was young and I really didn’t know how to handle the whole thing. I really shouldn’t be coming up with excuses since it was a total dick move, but I just… I’m really sorry.”  
  
“I’m sure you had your reasons,” Otabek says. He manages to keep his face somewhat expressionless (a talent he has had since he was a teenager), but he’s not sure how he’s feeling by Yuri’s sudden apology. A part of him appreciates it because he was a total mess when Yuri simply left without a word all those years ago, but a part of him tries to be rational and consider the fact that what they had was simply a summer fling and nothing more.  
  
Yuri lets out a humourless laugh. “Shitty reasons. I couldn’t stop thinking about you when I was in Russia, but then when I came back… I wanted to contact you, but I also didn’t want to interfere with your life again since I thought you probably had moved on already. And, you had,” he says, glancing at the direction of Ayzha’s room.   
  
“Well, you did break my heart,” Otabek says, knowing he shouldn’t lie to Yuri. Yuri’s face falls at his words, regret and concern painting his features.  
  
“Beka, I’m so fucking sorry-”  
  
“Don’t,” he interrupts, placing a hand on top of Yuri’s knee to calm him down. “I’ve had time to come to terms with it. The truth is, I got into a new relationship quickly to get something else to think about and then suddenly I had a child to raise, and she totally kept me busy, but… I never got over you, not really, and running into you again was the best thing that has happened to me since Ayzha was born.”  
  
Sorrow and guilt are still swimming in Yuri’s eyes but a soft smile spreads on his lips. He casts his gaze down at Otabek’s hand on his knee and puts his own on top of it, the brush of his thumb over Otabek’s skin gentle and comforting.  
  
“I’m happy JJ dragged you to the store,” Yuri says, huffing out a laugh: he’s not going to tell JJ he’s thankful for something he did, but Otabek has a hunch Yuri will show his gratitude in his own way someday.  
  
“Me too.”  
  
“I want to fix what I broke,” Yuri says, quickly and quietly, but Otabek hears him. He looks up, meeting Otabek’s eyes, the determination in them safe and exhilarating at the same time. He squeezes Otabek’s hand and exhales shakily, seemingly uncertain if he crossed the invisible line that got drawn between them during the years they spent apart.  
  
Otabek reaches out and tucks a wild lock of blond hair behind Yuri’s ear, a small smile on his face when he knowingly crosses the invisible line and kisses Yuri.  
  
A smile spreads slowly on Yuri’s lips as he leans into the touch, letting Otabek lace their fingers together and pull him closer. Against his beliefs the kiss doesn’t turn desperate; it’s soft and warm, and he feels like he’s 17 again, sitting on the bed in Otabek’s tiny top-floor apartment, happiness bubbling in his chest. Everything in Otabek is still so familiar - his deep voice when he laughs and the curve of his lips against Yuri’s own, how he chases Yuri into another kiss when they break for air and tells him to shut up when he laughs at him - and Yuri isn’t far from crying.  
  
“You don’t have to fix anything,” Otabek says, leaning their foreheads together. “Being with you again is enough.”  
  
**  
  
Yuri fitting so easily and effortlessly into his and Ayzha’s life should come as a surprise to Otabek, but for some reason it’s not surprising at all. Yuri knows that the two of them come as a package deal now, and although Otabek wouldn’t have blamed Yuri for backing off upon discovering he’s raising a child all by himself, the way Yuri welcomed Ayzha into _his_ life makes Otabek a little emotional.  
  
Ayzha absolutely adores Yuri despite him saying children hate him. Otabek didn’t believe Yuri’s statement for a second, but in the first few weeks since their reunion he could see how Yuri didn’t really know how to be around Ayzha - he knows Yuri has always been the baby of his own family, so Otabek gave them time to get comfortable around each other. Ayzha has never been a shy child and Otabek could tell she was more than excited to have Yuri around, so Otabek trusted her to get Yuri to loosen up eventually.  
  
Otabek ends up buying a few bottles of brightly colored nail polishes for them to try out, and soon Ayzha and Yuri are painting each other’s nails every night while Otabek cooks dinner (Yuri’s nails are mismatched, messy and don’t really go with the outfits he wears to work, yet he doesn’t take them off until Ayzha wants to re-do them). Otabek shares his bed with Yuri almost every night, and Yuri wakes up early even when he doesn’t have a morning shift at the tattoo studio, helping Ayzha to brush her teeth and sitting her down so he can do her hair, carrying her around the house in the mornings she’s struggling to stay awake.  
  
Otabek lets Yuri tease him about how he likes his coffee with more milk than actual coffee, but only because it earns him a kiss on the lips and a laughed-out apology; Yuri lets Otabek tease him about how his apartment is probably drowning in unopened mail, but only because Otabek always ends up carrying him into the bedroom anyway and asks him to stay the night.  
  
On Sundays when the tattoo shop isn’t open and Otabek doesn’t have work either, the three of them usually do something together. They’ve had some cooking lessons Yuri requested, Ayzha sitting on the kitchen floor with some toys until she gets bored and demands Otabek to pick her up, curious eyes watching Yuri struggle in front of the stove without Otabek’s helping hands. They’ve built pillow forts out of cushions and blankets, curling up inside for a Disney movie and an early-afternoon nap, Otabek waking up first and quietly taking photos of Yuri holding Ayzha close to his chest as they sleep (one of the pictures is still set as his phone’s lock screen).  
  
It took a little persuasion to get Yuri to go out with them, but after they went for a short walk through the nearby park - Ayzha between them, holding both of their hands and swinging her arms around, laughing - and no one approached them with rude comments, Yuri seemingly relaxed. Otabek understands his worrying, because although Yuri himself doesn’t care what other people think of him, he doesn’t want to be the reason Ayzha gets exposed to the cruelty of the world at such a young age.  
  
Yuri nor Otabek really knows _what_ the two of them exactly are, just like they weren’t sure five years ago. Otabek is certain that things are different now, and not just because they’re older and there are nights when a three-year-old climbs into their bed in the middle of the night after having a nightmare, falling asleep between the warmth of their bodies. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but he supposes they’re less carefree and more responsible now - in good and in bad.  
  
They’re both busy during the weeks, and in the evenings they’re too caught up with getting Ayzha to bed in time and preparing themselves for another day at work that they rarely spend quality time together. Yuri has said he doesn’t need anything special, that simply being with Otabek is more than enough for him, but Otabek still tries to find time just for Yuri.  
  
Even if it means they occasionally meet in a café nearby the tattoo studio on their lunch breaks.  
  
It’s raining, and Yuri shakes droplets out of his hair when he sits down and gives Otabek a small smile. He hangs his oversized denim jacket over the back of the chair and gets himself a strong coffee, drumming his neon-pink and yellow nails against the cup. He’s looking past Otabek, following a young family with a giggling toddler occupying a table at the corner, and Otabek can’t help noticing how dark the circles under Yuri’s eyes have gotten.  
  
They are adults now, fully capable of taking care of themselves and setting necessary boundaries, but sometimes Otabek thinks he must have dragged Yuri into something he never really even wanted. Otabek hates to see the sorrow that has seeped into the emerald of Yuri’s eyes, and he’s angry with himself for not noticing it until now.  
  
“Yura,” Otabek says gently, brushing his fingertips over the back of Yuri’s hand to get his attention. He knows he’s frowning although he really doesn’t want to be. He tries to wrack his brain but he doesn’t remember Yuri complaining about lack of sleep or tossing and turning next to him at night, unable to fall asleep. It fills his insides with heavy dread, and he feels sick. “Is something wrong?”  
  
“I-”, Yuri starts, his gaze drifting to the family behind Otabek’s back. He squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a sigh before opening them, focusing on Otabek sitting on the other side of the table. “I’ve realized I really, really care about Ayzha.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“And I care about you so fucking much, Beka. I know I’ll never be her parent, and honestly I’m not sure would I even want to be, but what I do want is for both of you to be happy.”  
  
“We are happy,” Otabek reassures, but when tears start gathering in Yuri’s eyes, he feels like someone poured freezing water over his head.  
  
“But will you be in the future, too?” A single tear rolls on Yuri’s cheek and he wipes it away angrily. “I’ve been thinking that I- I’m probably not the best role model for her, looking like this and doing what I do for a living. How are we even supposed to explain _us_ to her, and how is that going to affect her when she’s older? I don’t want to be the reason she’s miserable.”  
  
“You won’t be,” Otabek says, quiet but stern. He wants to tell Yuri that it doesn’t matter where Yuri works and how he dresses as long as _he_ is happy; Otabek wants to tell him he could never make Ayzha miserable because the girl looks at him with stars in her eyes, and whatever Yuri and Otabek are or have isn’t going to change that.  
  
But Otabek doesn’t find the words to say all that and Yuri pulls away. He sniffles and bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from breaking apart, and Otabek feels like his mind and body are equally paralyzed. He hears how the corner table’s toddler laughs in absolute glee, clapping his tiny hands together, but he’s struggling to register anything.  
  
“How do you know?” Yuri’s voice is barely a whisper, and it tears Otabek’s heart into pieces.  
  
“I don’t,” he says, honest. He swallows with difficulty, his throat burning, making it hard for him to breathe. “I don’t know a lot of things. I don’t know how we should talk to Ayzha about our relationship, and I don’t know what kind of effect all of this will have on her when she grows up. But, Yuri, I-”  
  
“I need some time, Beka,” Yuri interrupts him, standing up. He pulls his jacket on, his reflexes not quick enough to dry all the tears that keep falling down his face. “I’m sorry.”  
  
He leaves, the bell above the café’s door chiming after him, and Otabek’s chest feels hollow.  
  
**  
  
Otabek has always liked his job, but in the days following Yuri walking out and leaving him alone in the café, Otabek is extremely grateful to have work to focus on. His students are great - talented, bright and witty, excited to express themselves through their music just like Otabek does himself. Most of the time they keep him on his toes with their sharp minds and silly pranks, but there really isn’t anything better than seeing the delight on their faces when they play through a difficult piece without mistakes or score high on a boring music theory test.  
  
The biannual recital season is just around the corner, and Otabek’s lessons tend to drag until late evenings. More often than not it’s Inkar who picks Ayzha up from daycare and drops her off at the school, scolding her younger brother for overworking before heading to her own practice with the orchestra.  
  
Otabek knows his hours at the academy are getting too long, but along with his daughter, work is the only thing keeping him somewhat sane.  
  
It’s been two weeks since Otabek last saw Yuri, and although he doesn’t bring him up with Ayzha, the girl notices his absence. She often sits at the kitchen table drawing or playing while Otabek prepares dinner for them, repeatedly looking out of the window as if she was expecting someone to knock on the door at any possible minute. A selection of nail polish bottles is gathered at the end of the kitchen table but she doesn’t touch them, and when one night Otabek suggests he could paint her nails, she throws a minor temper tantrum and sulks until the next morning.  
  
The TV is playing Sunday cartoons when Ayzha hops on the couch next to her father, both of their hair still messy from sleep, and clutches a worn-out tiger plushie against her chest. “Papa?”  
  
“Yes, princess?”  
  
“Where is Yuri?” Her voice is small, and Otabek hates how weak it makes him feel. She’s pouting, picking lint out of her plushie.  
  
“He needed some time alone,” Otabek says, not exactly sure how he should explain the situation to a three-year-old. Ayzha isn’t old enough to understand all the reasons why Yuri hasn’t been visiting even if Otabek did tell her, so he tries to keep it simple.  
  
“I miss Yuri,” Ayzha mumbles. Otabek isn’t far from crying, and he opens his arms so Ayzha can climb onto his lap. He hugs his daughter close and places a kiss on top of her head.  
  
“I miss Yuri, too. So incredibly much.”  
  
They watch cartoons in silence for half an hour before Ayzha grows restless and gets down, fetching more plushies from her room. The living room floor is soon covered in her fluffy animal friends and Otabek doesn’t have the heart to tell her she probably shouldn’t bring them all there if she’s not planning on carrying them back by herself.  
  
Otabek accepts his fate of having to clean the living room floor later and reaches for his phone, tapping open a messaging app.  
  
_To: Yuri_  
_[11:20] When you’re ready, we should talk_  
_[11:21] We miss you_  
  
He sets the phone back on the coffee table and sits back, not exactly expecting Yuri to reply anytime soon. He stares at the TV with unfocused eyes, the cartoon becoming a blurred mess of colors in front of him while his thoughts drift, and the sudden notification sound coming out of his phone makes him jump. He rubs his eyes and picks the device up again, his heart gaining tempo when he reads the message on the screen.  
  
_From: Yuri_  
_[11:26] Can I come over?_  
  
*  
  
Ayzha is still playing with her 20-or-so plushies on the living room floor when the doorbell rings, and she looks up at Otabek in confusion. Otabek tells her he’s going to get the door and she goes back to her imaginary world without further questions, humming along to a song playing on the TV.  
  
If possible, Yuri looks worse than Otabek did when he looked in the mirror that morning: the dark circles under his eyes have gotten darker and he definitely hasn’t brushed through his hair. He’s wearing a baggy sweater and leopard-print leggings, his glasses constantly slipping down on his nose.  
  
“Hi,” Yuri says when Otabek lets him in. He kicks his shoes off and lets out a shaky breath when Otabek pulls him into a tight embrace. He melts into the touch and wraps his arms around Otabek, hiding his face into the black T-shirt the older man has on. “I’m so fucking sorry.”  
  
“Please, don’t be,” Otabek mumbles into Yuri’s hair and allows him to sob against him, pulling back only to dry his tears and kiss his salty lips. He refuses to let go, holding Yuri close after every little peck on his face until they’re both out of tears, Yuri smiling against his mouth. Yuri almost apologizes for leaving again, but before he even reaches the end of his sentence Otabek tells him he doesn’t have to - because he came back, and nothing else matters.  
  
Ayzha can barely contain her excitement when Yuri walks into the living room with Otabek. She scampers through the ocean of plush toys and hugs Yuri’s legs, squealing and laughing, practically jumping up and down when Yuri kneels down so they’re on the same level. She spots the tear tracks on Yuri’s cheeks and her face falls, and she brings her small hands on each side of Yuri’s face.  
  
“Sad?”  
  
“No, dear,” Yuri says, ruffling Ayzha’s curly hair. The identical, wide smiles on their faces almost make Otabek’s heart burst out of his chest. “Happy.”  
  
“C’mon,” he says, two pairs of eyes looking up at him. “Let’s make some tea and have a chat, okay?”  
  
Ayzha refuses to sit in her own chair and Yuri is more than happy to have her on his lap, the girl telling him stories from daycare while Otabek prepares the tea. He sets steaming mugs of Earl Grey down on the table (probably the least fancy choice of tea he could’ve made, but he knows it’s Yuri’s favorite) and sits across them, leaning on his elbows. He meets eyes with Yuri - still a little red-rimmed but bright and determined, the color of them so deep Otabek could drown - and realizes he’s in love.  
  
He’s so hopelessly in love his heart aches, and his daughter inspecting Yuri’s chipped nail polish and promising him she’s going to paint them pretty again is only making him fall harder.  
  
“Darling?” he starts, his voice gentle, gaining both Yuri and Ayzha’s attention. Ayzha is still holding Yuri by his fingers, and she doesn’t let go even when her gaze is fixed on Otabek.  
  
“Yes, papa?”  
  
“I’m sure you have noticed our little family is different,” he says slowly, briefly meeting eyes with Yuri who suddenly looks tense and serious. Ayzha doesn’t seem confused by his words, and Otabek is sure she doesn’t fully understand what he’s trying to say. In the end it doesn’t really matter: he knows they’re going to have this conversation multiple times in the future as she gets older. “But we have been happy, right?”  
  
“Ayzha is happy!” she declares. She’s full of childlike confidence that Otabek is ready to protect until the end of his time.  
  
“And Yuri is making both of us happier, isn’t he?” Yuri’s eyes are shining and Otabek has to keep looking at his daughter because one glance at Yuri would make him cry, too.  
  
Ayzha nods enthusiastically and then cranes her neck to look up at Yuri, squeezing his fingers. “Is Yuri happy?”  
  
“I am,” Yuri laughs through the tears gathering in his eyes, threatening to spill over. Ayzha smiles at his answer, and Otabek can’t help but to join her.  
  
“I know you and I have been doing just fine, but what would you say if Yuri was with us more often from now on? Because papa really loves Yuri and would like to have him around, if that’s okay with you, Ayzha.”  
  
Calling the expression on Yuri’s face surprised would be an understatement, but Otabek doesn’t know a better word for it. He’s still close to crying, blinking as he tries to take in Otabek’s sudden confession. Otabek knows it’s a little unfair of him to say what he did when they’re not alone, the girl on Yuri’s lap not understanding the importance of the moment.  
  
“Hm,” Ayzha says, furrowing her eyebrows in thought. Otabek swears his heart stops beating until his daughter opens her mouth again. “So I have two papas now?”  
  
“You can just keep calling me Yuri,” Yuri is quick to say, a flash of horror visiting his face. Ayzha’s question as well as Yuri’s comical response to it makes a relieved glee bubble inside Otabek.  
  
“Okay, Yuri!” she says happily, her gaze then turning questioning again, landing on her father sitting on the other side of the table. “Will Yuri live here, too?”  
  
“Maybe someday, sweetie,” Otabek tells her. “Maybe someday.”  
  
Ayzha is content with that, smiling when she asks Otabek for the nail polishes gathered at the end of the table. Otabek slides the bottles to her and she starts picking out her favorite colors, coming up with different combinations when Yuri reaches for Otabek’s hand and gently twines their fingers together. His fingertips are cold but the rest of him is warm, all the way up to the smile on his face.  
  
“I love you, too,” he whispers, and Otabek tries to keep himself from crying because his tears would probably scare Ayzha, but he can’t fight it, smiling through the blurriness in his vision as he tells his daughter not to worry; that he has never been happier than he is right now.  
  
**  
  
Yuri hates how sweaty his palms have gotten, and he wipes them on his jeans before opening the gate that’s barely tall enough to come to his waist. He makes sure to lock the gate behind himself, his heart hammering painfully in his chest as he walks through the empty playing ground, a pair of swings swaying in the slow winter breeze.  
  
The building is big but not tall, its square windows decorated with paper snowflakes. There are three main entrances, each having a door painted in a different color. Yuri follows Otabek’s instructions and goes to the yellow one, taking in a deep, calming breath before he pulls it open.  
  
It’s less noisy inside than Yuri anticipated: a leisure murmur of voices mixed with children’s laughter flowing through the corridors, muffled by the time they reach the vestibule Yuri is standing in, surrounded by countless pairs of tiny winter shoes and raincoats. A message board hangs next to the doorframe, a selection of notifications pinned on it, the biggest one asking parents to write their children’s names on every piece of clothing they bring with them.  
  
Yuri shifts his weight from one foot to another, mentally scolding himself for being as nervous as he is. He knows he’s being dumb, that everyone here is expecting him to turn up and he doesn’t have to impress anyone (yet he still put on a plain hoodie and jeans with zero holes on the knees just in case), but for some reason showing up at the daycare center feels like a big deal.  
  
He’s too occupied with calming himself down to notice someone suddenly stopping at the door, and he almost jumps when they greet him.  
  
“Hi,” Yuri forces out, clearing his throat. The lady is probably in her early 50s, wearing an orange dress and earrings resembling pieces of candy. She has friendly eyes and a bright smile, and somehow Yuri feels safe with her standing there. “I’m here to pick up Ayzha.”  
  
“Oh!” Her face lights up, and Yuri offers her a small smile. “You don’t even know how excited she’s been the whole day, telling everyone you’d come to get her today. She really likes you, you know? Earlier she said to me you’re really cool and pretty, and I can see what she meant,” the lady laughs, turning around to call for Ayzha. Yuri’s insides feel warm with slight embarrassment and something he can’t quite name, and he has to blink a couple of times to keep himself together: he’s not far from crying _and_ laughing, but he knows it wouldn’t be appropriate of him to do either.  
  
Ayzha squeals his name in delight when she sees him, bouncing up and down until he crouches down and pulls her into a hug. She wraps her arms around Yuri’s neck and giggles, her easy happiness overflowing and contagious. Yuri is smiling when she untangles herself from him, and her eyes are shining in a childlike glee as she clumsily pushes dark curls out of her face.  
  
“Where’s all your things, darling? Go get your jacket, it’s cold outside,” Yuri tells her, huffing out a laugh when she runs to the row of lockers standing on the other end of the room, hastily pulling her jacket on. Another lady helps her to pack her bag, laughing at something she says.  
  
“You know,” the lady still standing on the threshold, her arms crossed over her chest, says with a knowing smile. “Ayzha has always been a happy child, ever since she came here - she rarely throws tantrums, she plays nicely with other kids and she’s kind - but lately she’s been happier, somehow. Her father has been, too. I know Mr. Altin hasn’t had it easy yet he has always been so polite, but in the past few months I’ve noticed he’s changed. He’s more… open, somehow. And I think it’s totally because of you.”  
  
Yuri knows he’s blushing under the lady’s gaze and he runs a hand through his hair to hide just how much her words mean to him: that he’s welcome to pick Ayzha up from daycare as her father’s partner and instead of dirty looks he gets warm smiles and words of support.  
  
“Thank you,” is everything Yuri manages to gather together, but the lady seems to understand. She sends them off with a wave of her hand after Ayzha has gotten all her extra layers on, and Yuri is swallowing down tears when they lock the gate behind themselves and Ayzha takes his hand.  
  
Yuri asks Ayzha about her day and patiently listens to her stories during their fifteen-minute walk to the music academy. The sun is going down and it’s getting chillier, and Yuri’s fingers are completely frozen in the hand not held by Ayzha’s tiny mitten. Fortunately the academy building’s heating works, so Yuri tries to regain warmth in his limbs, glad that Otabek came there by car and he doesn’t have to walk home.  
  
Ayzha is familiar with the building and she has run up the short flight of stairs and through open doors to the main concert hall before Yuri can even register she’s gone. He rolls his eyes and follows her, knowing she won’t go too far on her own, especially after she realizes the concert hall isn’t empty like it usually is: the recital has ended but the room is bustling with people, parents having conversations with the teachers and students joking around together. She’s looking around with wide eyes when Yuri catches up to her, only a little intimidated by the sea of people way taller than her.  
  
“Don’t run off like that,” Yuri says, not a hint of actual scolding in his voice. He picks her up to give her an actual chance to see around the room. “Let’s go find daddy, hm?”  
  
No one really pays any attention to them as they make their way through the room until Ayzha spots Otabek standing near the stage, surrounded by a few co-workers and some of his students with their parents. “Papa!” she yells in excitement and tells Yuri to put her down, somehow not bumping into anyone as she runs to her father.  
  
“Hello, princess.” Otabek scoops her up easily, placing a kiss on top of her head. His eyes look at the direction she came from, slightly confused as they search and search, and then land on Yuri. The way his gaze softens and fills with adoration sets a pleasant warmth in the bottom of Yuri’s stomach and sends sparks flying right underneath his skin, making him feel like he’s 17 again, falling for the handsome DJ who buys him drinks and plays just for him in a crowded club.  
  
Although now Yuri has fallen harder, so much harder, and he knows he has it bad. But it’s different this time, because now Yuri doesn’t have to leave: he can stay with the two people making him happier than he has ever been before.  
  
He walks to Otabek, trying to appear smaller than he really is, painfully aware how everyone Otabek was having a conversation with are taking questioning glances of him. Otabek probably sees how Yuri’s shoulders tense up, always able to detect even the smallest changes in him, and he wraps the arm not holding Ayzha around Yuri’s waist, pulling him closer. There’s not a hint of uncertainty in his features, a small smile on his lips when he presses them on Yuri’s in a gentle kiss.  
  
“Thank you for picking Ayzha up. Did everything go well?”  
  
“Everything went just perfectly,” Yuri says, suddenly a little breathless. He knows people are looking at them - Otabek’s co-workers, his students, and those students’ parents - but Otabek doesn’t seem to care. The warmth in his eyes wraps itself around Yuri’s heart, radiating through his whole body and making him feel high on something Yuri thinks is _love_.  
  
Otabek turns his attention back to the light conversation still flowing between the people surrounding them and Yuri looks around himself, meeting eyes with JJ who’s standing a few feet away with some of his students. He gives Yuri a wink and a thumbs up, and Yuri rolls his eyes at him, unable to wipe the dumb, overly-happy smile off his face.  
  
**  
  
Yuri works every other Saturday, and ever since his life got turned upside down a little over eight months ago by Otabek and his daughter, Yuri has started despising Saturday shifts. Not because he dislikes his job or the customers that come by - on top of everything he gets paid more for working on Saturdays - so considering everything he should actually prefer working on weekends.  
  
But Otabek has a normal working schedule, from Monday to Friday with free weekends, and every other Saturday Yuri finds himself standing behind the tattoo shop’s counter thinking how he’d rather be with his boyfriend and his daughter, and how he must miss on a lot of great things just because he doesn’t have a plain, boring office job.  
  
Rationally thinking Yuri knows he can’t be missing much because on the Saturdays he doesn’t have work they sleep in, have a slow morning with breakfast and cartoons, and maybe take a walk through the nearby park if the weather is good. On Saturdays when Yuri leaves to work Otabek comes to the kitchen, dragging his feet and yawning, and sends Yuri off with a sleepy, off-centered kiss just to go straight back to sleep, and when Yuri gets back home after four in the afternoon he and Ayzha are usually napping on the living room couch, leftovers of their late lunch waiting for Yuri in the kitchen.  
  
Yuri also hates himself a little for thinking as he does, because not even in his wildest dreams (or nightmares) did he think he’d become so _family-oriented_. The word sends shivers down his back and makes him mentally gag, so maybe it’s better for his own sanity to do a six-hour Saturday shift every now and then.  
  
“I hate working on Saturdays,” Mila says, stretching her arms. Her last customer of the day had just walked out of the door, and they have five minutes left before closing time.  
  
Yuri leans against the counter and yawns. “It’s your shop. You can decide if we are open on Saturdays or not.”  
  
“Saturdays are financially good. We make money nicely on Saturdays, and the rent ain’t cheap,” Mila says, opening the cash register. Yuri knows that so instead of arguing he just rolls his shoulders and stays silent as Mila counts the money.  
  
It’s two minutes to four when the bell above the shop’s door goes off, and Yuri is ready to curse the intruder to the deepest pits of hell: their opening hours are painted in big numbers on the door, so who has the audacity to come in despite seeing they’re about to close?  
  
“Yuri!”  
  
His anger turns into genuine surprise when Ayzha calls his name and runs to hug his legs. Mila watches her with raised eyebrows, giving a slow nod of recognition to Otabek who comes in after the girl.  
  
“Are you closing?” he asks, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Yuri picks Ayzha up and rolls his eyes at him.  
  
“Always open for the boyfriends,” Mila says swiftly, turning her attention to the girl in Yuri’s arms. “And who is this little cutie?”  
  
“My name is Ayzha! I’m three years old,” she says, holding her small hand out. Mila takes it with a laugh and introduces herself, going as far as answering honestly when Ayzha asks for her age, too.  
  
“Aren’t you adorable,” Mila gushes, making Ayzha giggle. “Why haven’t you visited me before? Come to work with Yuri someday, okay?”  
  
“Wouldn’t that be fun?” Yuri teases, walking her around the studio when she asks to see the drawings and photographs hung on the walls. “Would you want one, too?”  
  
“That’s a no,” Otabek prompts from the door, his arms crossed over his chest. He must know Yuri is only joking, but Yuri notices that some color has drained out of his face.  
  
“Maybe in fifteen years, huh? What do you say, sweetie?”  
  
“Yes! Ayzha wants!”  
  
“Not gonna happen,” Otabek says, his voice a little strained. Mila fails at stifling a laugh behind her hand.  
  
“We just won’t tell daddy, right, darling?”  
  
“Secret!” Ayzha says, shushing. Yuri laughs at her and puts her down on her own feet, goes to Otabek, and wraps his arms around his waist.  
  
“I’m only joking,” he says, placing a small kiss on his cheek.  
  
“I know a small part of you isn’t joking, though,” Otabek says, but his expression has already softened.  
  
“We’ll see about that.” He watches Ayzha run around the shop and thinks how a toddler should _not_ be running around the shop equipped with sharp needles and other semi-dangerous utensils they use in their day-to-day work. Yuri has never been too keen on bringing children to tattoo shops anyway, and he’s pretty sure Otabek agrees. “Were you going somewhere, or why did you come here?”  
  
“We came to get you,” Otabek states with a shrug, kneeling down to re-tie Ayzha’s hair by her request. He secures her ponytail and picks her up, smiling at her giggles.  
  
“I was about to come to your place after work anyway,” Yuri says, frowning.  
  
“Surprise?” Otabek tries, and Yuri rolls his eyes at him. He appreciates the gesture and surprises are always nice, but he’s a tiny bit suspicious. He sighs in defeat when Ayzha laughs out her own _“surprise!”_ , and goes to fetch his bag from the back room, waving his goodbyes to Mila as Otabek tells Ayzha they’re going to head home now.  
  
The walk from the shopping street to Otabek’s place isn’t exactly short, and usually Yuri takes the bus, but the weather is good and the air is crisp. Otabek tells him Ayzha had been unusually restless the whole day and they let her shed some of that seemingly endless energy during their walk. She runs ahead of them, stopping and turning around just to run away again when they get close. Snow is whirling around her as she stumbles and laughs, and somewhere along the way Otabek takes Yuri’s hand and doesn’t let go until he has to unlock the door to his apartment.  
  
Yuri gets suspicious once again when he walks into the kitchen and sees the table has been made. The cutlery looks fancier than what they usually use, and there are small candles placed on the table waiting to be lit.  
  
“What’s this?” he asks, narrowing his eyes. Otabek hugs him from behind and presses a haste kiss on the nape of his neck, huffing out a laugh.  
  
“I just wanted to surprise you, you’ve been working so hard lately. It took me three hours to get everything done so you better like what I’ve prepared for dinner.”  
  
“I always like whatever you’ve cooked,” Yuri assures him, shaking his head in disbelief. He knows Otabek is a helpless romantic - a side of him he doesn’t show often - but he isn’t quite sure is it safe to have that many candles around when they’re supposed to share the table with a three-year-old.  
  
They haven’t had time for a proper date night in ages, so after his initial shock Yuri finds himself thinking how cute it is for Otabek to prepare a surprise for him, even if it’s just a walk home and a stay-in dinner. Yuri appreciates every second he gets to spend with Otabek and Ayzha, but this kind of special time together is nice every now and then, too.  
  
Otabek has gone all in with his cooking, as well: after appetizers, a main dish and a dessert Yuri wants nothing more than to finish his glass of wine and curl up on the couch together. Ayzha is already in the living room, engrossed in a Japanese animation movie she has seen at least ten times before.  
  
“To be honest, out of the two of us, it’s you who has been working harder,” Yuri says, leaning his chin on his hand. “I should be surprising you.”  
  
“Let’s just say we have both been working hard,” Otabek says and places his wine glass on the table. He reaches for Yuri’s other hand and gives it a squeeze. “Actually, I have one more surprise for you.”  
  
“Beka, this is enough,” Yuri says, serious and a little overwhelmed. Otabek shrugs as he stands up and goes to one of the kitchen cabinets, pulling out a small envelope tucked between two huge cooking books. Yuri frowns, staring at the envelope Otabek places on the table between them. It’s a simple, white one without anything written on it, bulging a little to indicate there’s something hidden inside it. Otabek looks at the envelope and then up at Yuri, nervousness dancing in his gaze, and Yuri gets even more confused.  
  
He picks the envelope up, turning it in his hands. It’s unsealed and heavier than he anticipated, and a little peek inside doesn’t give any answers to Yuri’s questions. He turns the envelope upside down, its contents dropping on his waiting palm, metal cold against his skin.  
  
Yuri looks at the key blankly, not sure how he’s supposed to react, meeting eyes with Otabek when he brushes their fingertips together.  
  
“Move in with us?”  
  
Every coherent thought leaves Yuri’s head and for a long moment he says nothing. He swears his heart stops beating and then restarts again in a rhythm that can’t be healthy. His silence doesn’t help with Otabek’s nervousness and he’s about to open his mouth to maybe explain his request when Yuri lets out a sound that’s something between a laugh and a sob.  
  
“Oh my god, Beka, I _hate_ you.”  
  
And that’s all Otabek needs to hear.  
  
**  
  
**  
  
**  
  
Ayzha’s 13th birthday falls on a Wednesday, the only day of the week when Yuri works late.  
  
Yuri likes his Wednesdays, because he has the whole studio to himself and his regulars, but on that particular day he wishes he had picked another day of the week for his later hours. Fortunately he only has one booking for that evening, and it’s a lady who he has tattooed at least 15 times before: she’s easy to work with, and they always end up laughing with tears in their eyes. The lady had requested a smaller picture this time as well, and when Yuri tells her he’s happy about that because it’s his daughter’s birthday, she almost cancels their appointment altogether just so Yuri could go home earlier.  
  
Legally Ayzha isn’t Yuri’s daughter although he has been there for most of her life and the nameplate on their front door changed from _Altin, Plisetsky_ to _Altin-Plisetsky_ six years ago. Not once has she pulled the _“you’re not my dad”_ \- card though, which Yuri is grateful for; it’s probably because she doesn’t have any real recollection of her biological mother, and Yuri would be sad about it if her mother had even once tried to contact her, but not even Otabek has heard from her.  
  
After his customer leaves with a cheerful goodbye Yuri cleans and disinfects his working station, counts the cash in the register and shuts off the computers, making sure he doesn’t leave any too big messes behind before he punches in his security code and locks the doors. He stops by the tiny food shop next to the studio to buy Ayzha’s favorite chocolate for them to have after dinner, and hops on a bus to get home.  
  
Yuri isn’t even fully in through the front door when he hears the screech of a chair pushed back combined with Ayzha’s gleeful laugh. “Dad’s home!”  
  
“Hello, princess,” Yuri says, catching the girl running to him in a hug.  
  
Yuri isn’t quite sure when Ayzha started calling him dad, but it happened after he and Otabek got married - if it had happened any sooner, Yuri probably would have gone through a major age-related crisis, but nowadays he doesn’t mind it. Maybe their marriage had been symbolic to the little girl, maybe she found it weird to call him Yuri when they partly shared a last name.  
  
Ayzha drags him into the kitchen with her where Otabek is sitting at the table in front of a laptop, his parents waving to them on the screen - it’s an early morning in Kazakhstan, yet they wanted to wish their granddaughter a happy birthday despite the time difference. Yuri starts reheating the dinner Otabek had prepared earlier while Ayzha tells her grandparents that as a birthday gift Otabek and Yuri had promised to take her and her best friend to Disneyland during their summer break, and how Inkar had taken her out to eat after school. Otabek is made to promise he’ll remind his sister to give their parents a call, and Yuri laughs when they tell him to stay healthy and keep looking after their only son.  
  
Otabek’s father is yawning as they bid their farewells, and Yuri has set the table for their dinner when Otabek’s parents finally drop the video call. Yuri lets Ayzha have a piece of her favorite chocolate before dinner and Otabek scolds both of them for it, rolling his eyes but unable to keep himself from smiling when Yuri gives him a quick kiss and calls him a boring adult.  
  
After dinner they stay at the table, Ayzha telling them about the new routine her dance team has started to prepare - Yuri took her to a dance class when she was five years old, and she loved it to the point where she’s now competing on a high level with her team - and Yuri thinks his own life has turned out to be pretty good. Unsurprising and kind of repetitive, but good. There’s been highs and lows for the three of them: Ayzha getting bullied in elementary school and Yuri’s grandfather passing away a few years back, but also Otabek and Yuri’s absolutely beautiful wedding day and Ayzha finding her passions in dancing and cooking (Yuri has gotten better at cooking too, but nowadays he doesn’t have to do it because Otabek and Ayzha find great pleasure in doing it).  
  
Yuri is quite sure nothing would make him even happier than he is now.  
  
”I have a surprise for you,” Ayzha says suddenly after changing a look with her father, a tiny smirk on her face.   
  
”It’s your birthday, not mine,” Yuri says, frowning gently. Being with Otabek has taught him to be suspicious about surprises, because whenever he says he has a surprise for him, it ends with Yuri fighting back tears of happiness. Ayzha hasn’t done that to him yet, but she is her father’s girl, after all.  
  
”I know, but let’s just say this is a birthday gift from me to me,” she says with a shrug and gets on her feet. She walks to one of the higher kitchen cabinets and pulls out a big envelope, and Yuri is hit with a flashback of the night when Otabek asked him to move in with them ten years ago. Yuri fixes a sharp look at his husband sitting on the other side of the table but Otabek refuses to meet his eyes, nervously chewing on his lower lip.  
  
Something is going on, and Yuri has a bad feeling about it.  
  
”What’s this?” he demands when Ayzha hands the envelope to him and gets seated next to her father. Her eyes are shining in excitement and she’s sitting cross-legged, finding it seemingly hard to stay still.  
  
”Open it and you’ll see,” she prompts, her eyes jumping from the white, plain envelope to Yuri and back.  
  
”I’m not sure if I should,” Yuri laughs, turning the envelope in his hands. ”Are you writing me out of your will? Maybe it’s divorce papers! Oh Beka, we can talk this out…”  
  
”God dammit Yura, just open it,” Otabek pleads, Yuri’s bad jokes only making him fidgety on his seat.  
  
”Patience, papa,” Ayzha scolds him, and Yuri would laugh at the pained expression on Otabek’s face if he wasn’t so nervous himself - what if it _is_ something serious? Would Ayzha and Otabek really make some important decisions by themselves, without him?  
  
With shaking fingers Yuri opens the envelope and takes a peek inside: a few pieces of paper stare back at him and he frowns. Simple paperwork is never good news. He inhales deeply and pulls the papers out, runs his eyes over the topmost one and feels his heart do a flip in his chest.  
  
It’s an official court document, _form 8D: application (adoption)_ according to the text printed on it. It already has Ayzha and Otabek’s signatures, and Yuri feels tears pooling in his eyes when he keeps reading, staring at the paper. His mind refuses to believe what he’s seeing and he looks up, finding Ayzha’s dazzling smile beaming at him.  
  
”You- you want me to _adopt_ you?” he forces out and Ayzha rolls her eyes at him, as if he was asking an extremely dumb question.  
  
”You already are my dad, anyway. Me and papa want it to be official on paper, too.”  
  
”You knew about this!” Yuri narrows his eyes at Otabek who’s trying to wipe his tears away and miserably failing. He gives Yuri a small, trembling smile.  
  
”Of course I knew about this,” he says with a weak laugh. ”Trust me, it’s been so hard to keep this from you, but Ayzha wanted to wait until today.”  
  
Yuri doesn’t actually feel betrayed - he can only imagine how much Otabek has struggled not to talk to him about their plan. All of them know Yuri doesn’t have to adopt Ayzha for them to be a complete family, but somehow it feels like a natural next step in their little journey that originally began over a decade ago.  
  
”So you’ll sign it?” Ayzha asks, eyes shining - her nervousness didn’t show on her face the same way it did on Otabek, but Yuri still wants to smack both of them for even thinking he wouldn’t sign the application. Ayzha is too excited to stay seated and she jumps on her feet, leaning on the table and into Yuri’s personal space. Yuri laughs through his tears and reaches for a purple pencil case forgotten on the edge of the table, Ayzha’s unfinished homework stacked underneath it. He picks out a pen and smiles when both Ayzha and Otabek hurry to his side, Otabek placing a kiss on top of his head as he writes down his name on the line next to Otabek’s signature, stating the two of them would become Ayzha’s legal parents when their application gets approved.  
  
Ayzha is crying when Yuri slips the form back into the envelope, now all signed and completed, and when Otabek pulls both of them into a hug Yuri realizes he was wrong earlier: somehow he’s even happier now than he was mere hours ago.

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it this far: I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/avaruussade) | [tumblr](https://sleepyams.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Also, my mom makes a quick cameo appearance in this story (did you catch it?), so although she will never read this, I want to say: thank you mom for always supporting me no matter what ♡


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